A Tale of Nativity

by

Lanin D. Thómasma

“Excuse me, Meneer,” said Lame Pieter.

Everyone in town knew Lame Pieter. Crippled as a baby, he had been left on the doorstep of the church, and old Father Timothy had taken him in and raised him. As a child, despite his handicap, his sweet and inquisitive nature had endeared him to the townspeople. He had a spot in the nave of the church, from which each Sunday he would welcome the parishioners as they entered for worship. On sunny days, he could always be seen by the church steps, smiling a greeting to each passerby.

And woe betide the stranger who unwittingly called Lame Pieter a beggar. With a word or a glance, the good people of the town would put such a notion to rest. For what he had been denied in his legs, the Lord of All Providence had compensated him richly in his hands. He was never to be seen without his knife and a piece of wood, and under his care, that wood would take on an exquisite new life. Carpenters would come to him to carve embellishments for their new buildings, and paid him fairly for his work. And yet, he would apply his talents just as fully to a small toy to give to the poorest of children. Thus he made his living, and there was scarcely a home in town, from prominent families like the Van Eykens and the De Brugges, down to the lowliest of laborers, that did not feature at least one of Lame Pieter’s delicate and cunning works of carving.

“Meneer,” said Lame Pieter once again, and Ruppert Van Eyken breathed a silent, inward sigh. The Van Eykens belonged to the foremost citizens of the town, and had since anyone could remember. It was Ruppert’s great-great-grandfather, Gerhard-Willem Van Eyken, who had commissioned the elaborate painting that hung in the church, the famous Francken Nativity which made both the church and the town a stopping point for artists and art connoisseurs alike.

Their standing in the town hung like a mantle on the Van Eyken family, and in Ruppert’s case it chafed. The second son of the present Van Eyken patriarch, Ruppert prided himself on being a modern man, and a man who could make his way without the family’s patronage. Had he not earned his degree at the University of Leiden through his own hard work? Had he not traveled abroad to learn of the newest breakthroughs in design and construction, to France, Italy and even to America, to study the new Erie Canal? Had he not received a medal from the King himself for his engineering work, a medal he wore proudly on his obligatory appearances at church every Christmas and Easter.

Of all the vast array of family traditions, it was Christmas that Ruppert found most arduous. It would never do to be absent from the Van Eykens’ annual pilgrimage to the church on Christmas morning, and the subsequent homage to great Van Eyken Nativity. Only his trip to America had provided adequate excuse to miss that all-important appearance, and even then, he had felt the vague sense ever since that he owed everyone an apology for not being there.

While his wife Euodia delighted in the friendly attentions of the family and the townsfolk, Ruppert could only marvel at the backwardness of it all. Having seen some of the world, his family’s domain seemed the more hidebound and steeped in superstition. Even Lame Pieter, whom folks considered to be some sort of good luck talisman. He was nice enough, Ruppert would have to admit, and not obtrusive for the most part. But with his affliction, his gentle and quiet demeanor, and the fact that he had been raised in the church, Lame Pieter was considered specially touched by the Divine. And when he spoke to you directly, it was considered bad luck not to answer.

And it was to Ruppert that Lame Pieter was speaking this morning.

His mistake, Ruppert thought, was in hesitating. If he had pressed on, most everyone would have assumed he hadn’t heard. But now Lame Pieter had spoken twice, and there was no mistaking it. He had no choice but to answer. “Yes?” he said politely.

“Please, Meneer, I wonder if you might help me,” Lame Pieter said amiably. He gestured toward Ruppert’s chest. “It’s about that lovely medal you’re wearing, if you please.”

Ruppert felt a swell of pride, which, having been brought up properly, he immediately covered with a show of humility. “This?” he said, trying to sound offhand. “This is a Special Commendation from the King, for my service in expanding the industrial works in North Brabant.”

“It’s quite striking,” Lame Pieter said. “Do you think I might carve a likeness of it?”

Ruppert stared at him. “Carve a – what?”

“I would so love to have one,” spoke Lame Pieter with an innocent smile. “Would you let me carve a copy?”

“Mostly certainly not,” Ruppert said angrily, then noticed that he had attracted the attention of the few people who were still filing out of the church. Lowering his voice, he spoke to Lame Pieter in a stern tone. “Now look here, young man. This Commendation was conferred upon me in person by King Willem himself. It represents a high honor. It’s not some trinket that can be simply copied out of hand.”

Lame Pieter looked into his eyes for a moment, then bowed his head and smiled apologetically. “Of course, Meneer,” he said meekly. “It must represent a very high honor for you. To have stood in the presence of the King himself, to receive such an honor from his own hand, is a blessing so few of us experience. I do apologize. I was so taken by the beauty of the piece that I didn’t think. I hope you’ll forgive my impertinence.”

Mollified, Ruppert stepped back to regain his composure. It’s not his fault, he thought to himself. With the sheltered life he’s led, he can hardly be expected to have any idea of how the world works. “That’s all right,” he said gruffly. “Honestly, though, I can’t think where you’d get such a notion.”

With a puzzled look, Lame Pieter pointed just beyond Ruppert’s head. “Why, I got it from the painting behind you,” he said.

Ruppert turned to follow Lame Pieter’s gesture, and found himself gaping in surprise. “The Nativity?” he said, then turned back nonplussed. “Whatever can you mean? That’s our family’s Nativity.”

“Yes, Meneer,” Lame Pieter said simply. “Quite so. Look at it for a moment and tell me what you see.”

By this time, only the two of them remained in the building. Ruppert looked back at the painting. Although it had been there all his life, he had never really paid much attention to it. Now, seeing it as if for the first time, he was taken by how masterful it truly was.

“What do I see, eh?” he said, curious as to Lame Pieter’s point. “Well, it’s a masterwork, of course. The colors are vivid. The lines are - ”

“If it please,” Lame Pieter interrupted. “What do you see in the scene?”

“Ah, well,” Ruppert said, growing more intrigued. “I see … honestly, I see what every Nativity scene contains. There’s the Virgin and Child, with Joseph nearby. I see the shepherds and their sheep, the animals around the manger, the angels in the sky; there are the Three Wise Men and their camels.” He shrugged. “Beautifully done, but pretty standard.”

“And in the corner there,’ Lame Pieter prompted. “Who do you suppose that couple might be, on their knees as if in prayer.”

Of course, Ruppert thought to himself. That’s what he’s getting at. “Why that’s obviously my great-great-grandfather, Gerhard-Willem Van Eyken, and his wife.” His voice took on a slightly instructive tone. “It was a common practice back then. Rich patrons would commission works of art, and have themselves painted into the scene, to impress others with their show of piety.”

“You don’t find it impertinent of them?” Lame Pieter asked.

Ruppert looked back at him. “Impertinent?” Then, recalling his words, he shook his head. “You mean my Commend – but no. That’s an entirely different matter.”

“Indeed it is,” Lame Pieter said. “It’s a much greater honor they claim for themselves.”

Ruppert stared in shock. “What – Who do you think - ” he sputtered, searching for words.

“Please, Meneer,” Lame Pieter said quickly. “I mean you no disrespect, nor your honored ancestor.” He smiled up at the Nativity. “It’s no secret that I’ve spent a great deal of time here on this spot, and I’ve become quite familiar with your great-great-grandfather. I think we’ve become old friends. I certainly would never criticize him, nor call his devotion into question.

“But consider for a moment. To be called to the presence of an earthly king is a high honor, we both agree. But to be present at the birth of the King of Kings. To join in giving Him the devotion He deserves as the very Son of God. Is it not understandable that Gerhard-Willem and his wife would want to be included in the scene? Who would not wish to be a part of such a blessed event?

Lame Pieter pointed back to the Nativity again. “It may be as you say, a mark of vanity on their part. But look again. Look closely into their faces. Can you see the joy there in their eyes?”

Ruppert looked for a long time, and finally spoke. “Yes, I can see it. But might that not simply be the artist’s interpretation of them?”

Lame Pieter nodded. “Perhaps. Our Lord alone knows our true hearts. But seeing them there, seeing the desire in their eyes, I choose to believe their devotion was real. After all, of the many different events in Our Lord’s earthly life, they chose to join Him there. Not at the many miracles He performed, nor His crucifixion, nor even at His ascension to the Father. At His birth, as the King of Kings first set foot among us.”

Ruppert gazed at the Nativity, trying to see even a little of what Lame Pieter seemed to see in it. “Remarkable,” he said quietly. “This painting is part of our family’s lives. But I wonder if anyone of us have ever taken the time to look at it.”

“Is that not unfortunate, Meneer?” Lame Pieter said. “To have overlooked something so precious for so long?”

Ruppert looked back at the young man. “I see this was your purpose in speaking to me,” He said. “Why do you bring it to my attention now? And why in such a manner?”

Lame Pieter glanced away, searching for the right words. His smile took on a special glow. “Meneer, have you heard the Psalmist’s words, ‘I was glad when they said unto me, let us go up to the house of the Lord’? How many times have I seen you come to this house, faithfully on each holiday. And yet, never have you come gladly.”

Ruppert, feeling vaguely exposed, shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, well … I suppose it’s something we do … as a family. It’s tradition.”

“Indeed, and you’re not alone,” Lame Pieter nodded. “Many come out of the same sense of obligation. They come for love of family, husbands come to please the wives they love, wives their husbands, children their parents. But whom do they come to honor?

“I spoke to you, Meneer, because I feel you understand what it feels like to be specially honored. Our King summoned you into his presence, and commended you – you in particular. And you guard that honor jealously. Think of how you felt when I asked to copy the mere token of its meaning.

“Yet, as I say, how much more has our Lord done for us? He does not summon us to him, but rather comes to us. And the token He gives is not a medal or cordon, but His own self to share, in the body and blood of Communion, and His presence wherever we gather, two or more of us in His name, as He said. If I were to ask one thing of the Lord (and He’s assured us we may ask Him anything), it would be that you would take the Lord’s favor to heart, and learn to honor Him as He has honored you.”

Ruppert van Eyken stared at Lame Pieter a moment, then, nodding his goodbye, left the church. His wife found him particularly quiet throughout the family’s Christmas celebration that day. And the following Sunday, no more than a few days later, she was surprised when he offered to accompany her to church again.

“But you’ve already been to the Christmas service,” Euodia protested. “You’ve never seen the need to go a second time.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Ruppert said. “Still, I think I’ll come with you nonetheless.” He smiled to himself. “There’s something I need to attend to.”

As they entered the church, there sat Lame Pieter in his normal place. He looked up at Ruppert and smiled, then nodded his head in a silent greeting. Ruppert nodded back, and as Euodia went to take her seat, he turned to look once more at the Nativity. As he stood, looking into Gerhard-Willem’s eyes, for an ever-so-brief moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of glory there.

“Good morning, Great-Great-Grandfather,” he said quietly. “Shall we see what the King has in store for us today?”

THE END